


The 6th of January

by SophB_Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, 5+1 Things, Birthdays, Canon Compliant, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophB_Holmes/pseuds/SophB_Holmes
Summary: Sherlock has had a lot of unhappy birthdays but sooner or later, somethings bound to improve. Surely.A series of birthday 221b ficlets.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 165
Collections: Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes - 6.1.2020





	The 6th of January

**6 th January 2010**

The room sat in darkness except for the gentle glow of the streetlights outside. Every now and again, an amber glow appeared brightening, then dimming, followed by an exhale.

“Smoking, brother mine?”

A man in the three-piece suit wandered into the middle of the room, umbrella casually held over one arm. Glancing around, he cast his judgemental gaze over surfaces strewn with paper, glassware, photographs, when something caught his eye. A pursing of lips followed before moving to sit next to the other occupant of the sofa. Perching on the edge, he leaned forward on his umbrella and rested his chin on his hands, staring at contents of the coffee table in front of him.

“I had a feeling it would be one of those nights.” His voice barely carried the distance to the person next to him but still it hung, like an ominous cloud between them. “It’s time for you to leave this place. Find somewhere else.” No response. Just the flicking of ash into an ashtray sitting on the arm of the sofa. “I hear Martha Hudson has finally returned from Florida. She’s had a house on Baker Street refurbished.” The smoking man simply lit another and maintained the silence. “Remember the list.” He stood, pointedly stared at the syringe, spoon and tourniquet, then left. 

**6 th January 2011**

Sherlock was excited. For the first time, he wouldn’t be alone on this particular date. So many years had been spent with nothing more than cigarettes, cocaine and heroin as his only companions. This year was different. This year he had a friend.

Almost a year had passed since he had first met John Watson. A year full of adventure, danger and intrigue. He never expected to have a friend, yet here he was. An actual human being who he liked spending time with.

Sherlock had actually gone to the shops for once and bought not only milk but also John’s favourite beer. He selected the takeaway menus and put them on the coffee table that last year held his escape from reality. John had kept mentioning a movie marathon night and Sherlock was more than happy for that to be this year’s method of relieving his boredom.

The stage was set. He just needed John to return home from the surgery.

His phone pinged. A message.

“Forgot to tell you this morning. Got a date after work. Could you possibly get off your arse and get some milk?”

Sherlock stared at the message. Of course, he’d not told his friend the significance of today’s date. Swallowing his disappointment, he texted back.

“Busy – SH.”

Before sitting down.

Alone.

**6 th January 2013**

Tired. He’s so tired. In the last thirteen months, he’s averaged maybe fifteen hours sleep a week. Always running. Always tracking down the next link. Always fighting to keep the loneliness and panic at bay. He’s not sure how much more he can take at this point. Staying one step ahead is exhausting. Having no one to watch your back like…

He stops that train of thought dead. No. That is why he’s here. That’s why he’s still running. To keep that man safe. To watch _his_ back for a change. John’s back. John. His only friend. The heart of him.

Moriarty was right.

He slumps down onto the bed in the corner of a basement he’s taken refuge in. It’s dark. Draughty. Cold. Damp. He tried to score heroin earlier to dull the pain but found nothing.

This is a different type of danger night.

He takes his phone out, pushes the power button. Opening a text message, he types.

“John.” It’s as far as he ever gets. Words fail him. How could a text ever contain the feelings in his heart? His head falls back against the wall. Eyes squeeze shut. No tears. Not now. He presses delete.

Three dots appear on the screen.

“Still waiting for my miracle. Don’t be dead – JW” Tears fall anyway.

**6 th January 2015**

Another five cases solved in twenty minutes. Tweets in the last hour – forty. God, he was good. He was on fire! After a week of nothing, of hiding in his Mind Palace, unable to deal with being all alone whilst fully awake, he threw himself back into his work.

Opening another email with yet another, far too easy to solve case, his phone made a moaning sound. The familiar noise stopped him in his tracks and he simply sat and stared at the phone. Eventually, he tapped to open the message.

“Welcome back. Let’s have dinner. It’s your birthday. Treat yourself.” He smiled a little before closing the message and laying the phone down on the chair arm.

His birthday. Another year gone. Another year alone. John and Mary were back together, just as he had planned. Yet, his heart hurt to think of them tucked away in their flat, awaiting the arrival of their baby girl. As he looked across to the empty red chair opposite…

Picking up the phone, he opened the message again. This year could be different. Maybe, just maybe.

He types out the message and clicks send before he can think twice. The response is almost immediate. He nods and stands. Grabbing his coat, gloves and scarf, he turns out the lights and leaves 221b smiling.

[](https://imgbb.com/)

**6 th January 2016**

It’s quiet in the flat. Alone for the first time in a few days. Well. Relatively. Mrs Hudson is downstairs and apparently, Big Brother is always watching. He should be grateful. Thankful that so many people care about his wellbeing. They’ve taken shifts to keep him off the ‘sweeties’. They don’t trust him. Not that he’s given them much reason to recently. But it was for a cause.

A case. His mind corrects before his heart tells him to stop kidding himself. Saving John Watson. It was a definite cause.

It is what it is. Words whispered against John’s hair whilst holding him in his arms for the first time. John had hugged him before. This was the first time Sherlock had held him.

He takes hold of his mug, hands shaking as he brings it to his lips. Smiling, he recalls the afternoon. John collected Rosie and they all met Molly at a cafe. It was…nice. He laughed for the first time in months. John laughed too.

He should be sad to spend another birthday alone. But he’s not. He fought to save his friend, and he won. It was worth the pain. Worth the absolute hell of detox. Worth the disappointment in everyone’s eyes.

His best friend would be ok. That was the best birthday gift.

**6 th January 2017**

“Sherlock!” He wasn’t sure whether it was his name being called that woke him, or the weight of a nearly two-year-old Rosie Watson landing on his sternum. She giggled when he peered at her from under the edge of the duvet.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Watson?” His voice was croaky from sleep, a yawn punctuating the end of the sentence.

She held out her hand in which she was clutching a slightly crumpled envelope.

“Open it.” He smiled at her bossiness. John said she was learning that from him. He couldn’t really disagree. Sitting up, he accepted the envelope and followed her instructions. At once, she snuggled into his side, under his arm. On the front of the card was a bee buzzing around a birthday cake. “Read it.”

“Demanding this morning. Daddy not fed you yet?” She giggled and he pressed a kiss to her hair before following opening the card. He just stared at the words inside.

“Wot it say?”

“Happy Birthday Sherlock! Will you be my Da? Love Rosie” He whispered the words written inside.

“Da is a lot easier for a two-year-old to say, wouldn’t you agree?” John walked in, a larger envelope in his hand.

“Da! Da!” Rosie started and Sherlock looked down to her.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah. You are the other adult in her life. You love her as much as I do. She’s already your daughter. If you want her to be, that is.” Sherlock looked up at John, watched as he walked to the other side of the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. The envelope was held out and accepted. Adoption papers. “I want to know that she’s got someone, if anything ever happens to me. You are the only person I trust to take this on.”

“But John, I’m…”

“A recovering drug addict with a very dangerous profession and dubious hobbies who also has a fuck tonne of enemies. Yeah. I know.” Sherlock swallowed and looked away. “But her father is a recovering alcoholic with a violent temper and a very dangerous hobby.” John’s hand came to hold Sherlock’s. “We make a good team. We’ll see her right.”

“John…”

“Da?” They both looked to the little girl still held close to Sherlock’s side. Swallowing, an answer was given.

“Yes, little Bee. Yes, I’ll be your Da.” Sherlock picked her up and held her against him, kissing her hair. John wrapped them both in his arms before looking up at his friend’s face, tears in both men’s eyes.

Leaning over his daughter’s head, John lightly placed his lips against Sherlocks. “To new beginnings.”

**Bonus – 6 th January 2020**

“Ten years ago, I was sitting in a dingy flat on Montague Street. I was smoking cigarette after cigarette. Turning thirty. A lot of people find a new decade hard. But most people accumulate more as they go through life. More friends, children, hobbies. I had no friends. No boyfriend. No one.

I had visited my dealer earlier on. Planned on speed balling myself to oblivion. I had it all laid out on the coffee table like it was a scientific experiment I was about to conduct. Then something happened. Mycroft. He saw the gear. Saw the drugs. And simply left me to it. Didn’t take anything with him. Didn’t drag me away. He allowed me to make a choice.

But he did leave me one thing. A gift. He gave me a way out. ‘Mrs Hudson has refurbished an apartment on Baker Street.’ Twenty-three days later, I was moving in and then met this man. My husband. John Watson.

I’ve not had many happy birthdays over the years. But I believe they’re going to be a lot better from now on. Especially now that John won’t ever be able to forget the date again.”

John chuckled and stood next to his new husband. “You cock.”

As everyone toasted their happiness, Sherlock leaned over to kiss his best friend, his John.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Sherlock FF is done! Been wanting to write one for ages. Hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think. 
> 
> I'm @Holmes84Sophb on Twitter if anyone wants to follow.


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